


There Are Monsters Beyond These Walls

by LastKissofDamaris



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastKissofDamaris/pseuds/LastKissofDamaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will doesn't like the person he's becoming, but Dr. Chilton is insufferable enough to make him forget. At least for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Are Monsters Beyond These Walls

Living with another person is a hard routine to fall into, but living with Frederick Chilton is nothing short of a nightmare. The man is insufferable. Will had thought he'd already tested his patience to its limits when he'd been incarcerated and under the psychiatrist's exclusive care.

He was wrong.

Frightened for his life and stealing glances out the window at every little noise, Chilton may have just what it takes to push Will over the edge. Forget Hannibal; a week living with Chilton was more than enough to drive Will to consider murder.

“Are you planning on staying there all night?” asks Will, for what might have been the fourth time in as many hours. When Chilton doesn't respond-standing with his back to the living room and a small congregation of dogs at his feet-Will gives a shrug and continues eating. A second plate sits largely untouched, the pale light of the television screen turning the dish into sludge.

Will continues to steal glances at the man as he eats, but he resolves that he's not going to be the one to break the silence the next time.

He is.

“Look,” he says, aiming for authoritative and hitting only desperation. All the same, it's enough, and Chilton finally turns away from the window to acknowledge him. He's wearing one of Will's old sweaters, it's ill-fitting and hangs loose around his shoulders, making him look smaller than usual. “I live in the middle of nowhere,” Will continues, reciting the same counter-argument he's given Chilton the entire week, “it's just you, me, and the dogs _,_ for _miles_.” He stuffs another forkful of pie into his mouth and says, “If someone was out there, we'd know.”

“I heard a noise.” says Chilton, his first words in almost an hour.

Will considers his response carefully, but he is left with little else to say other than, “It was just your imagination, Dr. Chilton.” and he already knows how well that is going to go over, and he's right because Chilton is spinning around to face him with a look on his face as black as Hannibal's history.

He clutches the rolls of the sweater right over the spot his scar rests beneath, and hisses, “Don't patronize me, Mr. Graham.” His other fist trembles before balling up at his side. “I  _heard_ something.”

An entirely unique kind of impatience twists Will's insides into knots, and he considers grabbing Chilton and forcing him bodily to sit down. He is ashamed when he realizes he is closer to doing it than not, although the feeling is not as immediate as it might have been before his incarceration. To calm himself, he eases back into the worn cushions of his sofa with a sharp intake of breath that whistles as it passes his lips. The tension slips out of him on the exhale, leaving him to feel like himself again.

Or as much like himself as Hannibal's work permits him. He is still very much a stranger hiding under the layers of his own skin. 

“Please,” he says at length, “just come and sit down. I promise you, you're safe here.”

The look on Chilton's face tells him that it won't be the last time they have this conversation, but in that moment Will's reassurances are enough. He tilts his head up as he passes, as if to say that this was all his choice, and then curls up at the other end of the sofa, looking entirely uncomfortable and ready to bolt at the first sign of threat. Will doesn't take it too personally, and shoves the plate of vegan slop towards him, muttering, “You should eat something.”

The rest of the evening passes in an uneasy silence, broken only by the calculated narration of the documentary that's currently airing, and the gentle clicking of uncut claws as the dogs move from room to room with their tails hanging limp behind them and a low whine in their throats. 

They have been particularly restless since Chilton's arrival. Will finds himself wondering if the man's toxic disposition is contagious. He reaches down for Winston, who's huddled at his feet, and gives him a scratch behind the ears. He receives an unhappy whine in response. His own mood sinks a little deeper. 

By the time 11:00PM rolls by, Will is ready to put this whole sorry day behind him. He stretches as he gets to his feet, his joints popping in a way that is deeply satisfying. His flannel shirt rucks up to his navel, and out of the corner of his eye he catches Chilton glance at the slither of flesh on display before turning quickly away with ears pink enough to see in the dark. 

There was very little that was hard to read where Chilton was concerned, the man was an open book. But his attraction to Will was one of his more obvious facets. 

“Well, that's me done for the day.” says Will with a glance down at Chilton, who's currently boring holes into the far corner of the room with unblinking eyes, “I'll see you in the morning.” He doesn't expect a response, and nor does he wait for one, heading instead for the stairs. Most of the dogs follow him out the room, but some of them-the smaller ones, Will notices-jump up onto the now-vacant spot on the sofa. Will hears the offended huff they get in response and feels his lips twist up into a smile that feels wrong against the muscles working it wider. 

He's on the third step when he hears it. 

An unsteady clamor of hollow thumps following the shrill blast of wind. 

Then he hears the sofa creak and the sound of hurried footsteps-as uneven as the noise coming from outside- heading his way. 

Chilton's eyes are blown wide when they meet his. His mouth already open around the innumerable 'I told you so's', but it's only wordless silence that breaks free of his constricting throat. He looks vaguely like a fish that has been left to flap and flail on deck. 

Will hurries down to him, fighting his own instincts to break eye contact despite how naked the man's gaze is making him feel. “Don't panic,” he says, grabbing Chilton's shoulder and squeezing for good measure, “it's probably nothing.”

He approaches the front door. “You get used to all the weird noises when you live this far out.” Whether he was trying to convince Chilton or himself, Will couldn't say, but he felt a little better rationalizing all the same. “I'll be back in a minute.”

A choked protest follows him out into the bitter night, but whatever Chilton had wanted to say is silenced by the heavy  _thunk_ of the door closing after him. 

Under the whistling shriek of the wind, Will can hear the constant thump-thump coming from the darkness of his driveway. It sounds almost like a heartbeat. He rests a palm above his own heart, feeling, and imagines something monstrous waiting in the night-

-shapeless, and hungry. 

Whatever is making the noise is coming from the direction of his car, turned black and ominous under a starless sky. The closer he gets, the more the wind picks up until it's hissing in his ears and biting at his skin with a chill that's bone-deep. Something is rolling back and forth in the dirt, a thick, twisted thing that looks almost like an antler. 

When Will leans down to inspect it though, he finds it's nothing more than a branch, caught between the wind's current and the steel caps of wheels of his car. He pulls it loose and tosses it as hard as he can. It lands with a broken crack further than his eyes can see. He turns around and heads back to the house. 

When he gets back inside, only the dogs come to greet him. 

“Dr. Chilton?” he calls. 

There is no answer. 

He moves into the living room, splashed red by the light of the television. “Frederick?” he tries, a little louder this time. A quiet rustling answers him from from beyond the basement door. When he approaches, it gets louder. It sounds like fabric shifting. 

“Are you down there, Dr. Chilton” he asks, feeling rather foolish. 

Nothing.

Will's about to check upstairs when he finally gets a response. It's wet and muffled, but Chilton is definitely on the other side of the door. Feeling more relieved than he feels like questioning, he moves to open it and tell Chilton that the both of them have been very silly, and that there is  _still_ absolutely nothing to worry about-

-but the doorknob does not shift when tries it. 

A bizarre thought occurs to him, and he asks, “Are you, uh, are you holding the doorknob?”

“Yes.” comes Chilton's voice from the other side. 

For the second time that night, Will doesn't know what to do about the smile fighting against his resistance. “Are you going to  _stop_ holding the doorknob and come out?” he asks, trying (and failing) to keep the amusement out of his voice. If there's one thing Will has learned that Chilton hates, it's his absolute loathing of being the source of amusement for anyone. 

Chilton finally emerges several moments later with his head bowed and his hands wrapped tightly around his stomach. Will has noticed he does that a lot, and maybe one day he'll ask him about it, but right now wounding the man's pride is not high on his list of things to do.

“It was just a branch,” he says instead, “got itself caught on the side of the car. Nothing to worry about.”

He fully expects Chilton to nod his head and brush the whole incident off as nothing-because God forbid he allow anyone to see him as a normal human being with concerns and worries and fears that he's open to discussing. But he doesn't. And for the longest second in his life, Will cannot understand what he is seeing.

Chilton is openly sobbing. His hands twisting into the folds of the borrowed sweater, and then he's folding in on himself as his face flushes red and his cheeks glisten under the stream of tears pouring down his face to hit the floor with a dull _thud_.

Will knows that as soon as this moment has passed, Chilton will be more uptight than ever in an effort to score some brownie points for his bruised ego, but he pushes that aside and figures that right now the man will not be opposed to a show of comfort. So he gathers Chilton into his arms, pulling all the harder when he protests with a feeble push against his chest, and squeezing when he sobs all the louder.

“It's going to be all right.” he says. The breath of his words puff up Chilton's hair where it rests against his lips. “I'm going to catch him, it's going to be all right.”

It doesn't take long after that for Chilton to give in and return the embrace.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh God, I just had to do this. I get super nervous when I write anything, so this took a ridiculous amount of time. Keeping this unrated until stuff happens. 
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes I may have missed. I checked it a couple of times, but I do tend to miss some glaringly obvious/dumb things sometimes.


End file.
